


Together

by MissMayWeMeetAgain



Category: Bellarke - Fandom, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin Reunion, Bellarke, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMayWeMeetAgain/pseuds/MissMayWeMeetAgain
Summary: Six. Her heart quickened, as she desperately shifted the scope, searching for the one she missed the most, the one who’d kept her sane all this time. Where is he?There. Bellamy.Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of him. She forced herself to keep level and calm, so she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Dread seeped in when she saw that out of the seven of them, Bellamy was the only one unconscious. His face was so swollen and bloody, she hardly recognized him. Blood was spattered all over his ripped shirt. He must have put up a hell of a fight.Please be alive, Bellamy, she thought.ORClarke rescues everyone from the prisoner ship, but Bellamy might die before she can truly reunite with him. Sappy Bellarke reunion fic. Post season 4/Pre season 5





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic, so please be gentle... :)  
> Thanks for reading!

Bellarke Fanfic: Together

Clarke swiftly pulled the dark scarf over her blonde hair and covered most of her face. She needed to move quickly and didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention from the prisoner transport ship that just landed. With Madi safely tucked into the back of the Rover, under cover, Clarke looked through the scope on the rifle, trying to see what she was up against. It had been a long time since having to harden herself for a fight, but for her it came back easily enough. The irony was not lost on her—she was now the Grounder wanting to protect what was hers.

Through the scope, she saw many people through the ship’s open cargo hold. Hardened men and women alike. This won’t be easy, she thought, but that’s never stopped me before. She counted a few weapons, but not many. If truly a prison transport, only the guards would have guns, theoretically. Could she be that lucky?

The men and women began to shift, hesitantly coming out of the ship. Clarke shifted the scope to the right, and as the path cleared, she saw them. 

Her heart skipped a full beat as her breath caught in her throat.

It’s them.

The weight of this moment was not lost on her, despite the circumstances. She saw Raven, hands tied in front, hauled up by one of the large men, her eyes shooting daggers. Monty, Harper, and Emori sat on the floor of the craft, glaring up at their captors. Echo’s head bobbed against her chest, blood streaming out of her nose. Of course she put up a fight, Clarke thought. Despite their differences, she’d never been happier to see Echo.

Shifting the scope left, she saw Murphy being hauled up to stand near Raven. He, too, had a bruised, bloodied face, but had been gagged. Some things never change…

Six. Her heart quickened, as she desperately shifted the scope, searching for the one she missed the most, the one who’d kept her sane all this time. Where is he?

There. Bellamy.

Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of him. She forced herself to keep level and calm, so she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Dread seeped in when she saw that out of the seven of them, Bellamy was the only one unconscious. His face was so swollen and bloody, she hardly recognized him. Blood was spattered all over his ripped shirt. He must have put up a hell of a fight.

Please be alive, Bellamy, she thought.

Then she readied herself for the challenge to come.

 

After night fell, Clarke snuck into the invaders’ camp while they slept. Only one guard kept watch, and he was easily and quietly disposed of. She got to the others quickly, as all but Bellamy were huddled in a tight circle outside the ship, hands bound and facing outward. As she snuck up on them, she raised her pointer finger to her lips, begging them to stay quiet as she whipped out her knife and cut through the ropes. 

They all looked confused, but grateful, at this rescue by a cloaked mystery woman, but she didn’t have time to explain until they rescued Bellamy. She quietly made her way into the ship where Bellamy was still tied up and unconscious. He looked awful, and Clarke struggled to push forward, despite wanting to savor the moment of being reunited. There will be time for that later.

Covered with a sheen of sweat, Bellamy’s dark curls stuck haphazardly to his forehead. Some things about him had changed with age, but his wild, curly hair was not one of them. Clarke felt a quiet relief at this familiarity. He still looked like Bellamy, but older, more filled out than he’d been at 23. Patchy, dark facial hair grew on his freckled, now bloodied, face. Later, she thought, compartmentalizing her wonder at him finally being in front of her after all this time. It wouldn’t matter what he looked like now if she wasn’t able to save him; however, she couldn’t stop herself from brushing his hair off his forehead. Memories of him doing the same to her pricked at the back of her mind.

He was burning up. Looking down at his shirt, she came up short. It was ripped and soaked through with blood. She pushed the ripped part to the side and saw the knife wound. Dammit. 

“Bellamy,” she whispered. “Bellamy, I need you to wake up. Stay with me, Bellamy,” she said, firmly, trying desperately to not let her fear show. I can’t lose him now, after everything. 

Bellamy stirred, opening his swollen eyes to slits. He looked frightened and delirious, moving away from her. She realized the scarf was still over her face, and she moved it away to show herself. “It’s me, Bellamy. It’s Clarke,” she whispered.

His eyes widened a bit with shock and recognition, which quickly dissipated. “Am I dead? Clarke’s…dead, so I’m…” he slurred, his deep voice cracking with disuse. “I’ve…missed you...” Tears formed and bloomed onto his cheeks, but he clearly didn’t realize that she was real. Not how she wanted this reunion to go, but he needed medical attention, soon, and there was no time to waste.

“Oh my god--Clarke,” Harper whispered, moving towards Clarke’s kneeling form. Shocked looks and smiles bloomed on the others’ faces.  
Clarke turned to them: “We have to get him out of here, now. He’s lost a lot of blood.” The commanding, confident tone she had used so often in their first months on the ground felt more natural than she’d expected.

The others helped her untie and steady him. Murphy and Monty got on either side of Bellamy’s nearly unconscious form and lifted him, ready to follow Clarke. Echo stepped to a limping Raven, offering herself as a crutch. Obviously, six years in space had helped the Grounder form some bonds with Skaikru.

“Let’s get out of here. Follow me,” said Clarke, quietly leading them through the woods to the Rover, as they left the enemy ship behind. 

*****************************************************************************

Candles and a fire lit the large cave, which was far away from the ship and highly hidden by shrubs. The night was giving way to dawn, and most everyone was asleep, no doubt exhausted from the travel and escape, but Clarke sat on the floor next to the makeshift bed that Bellamy rested on. She held his calloused, dirty hand, feeling the realness of his flesh on hers.

After the escape, the others had quietly followed her through the woods to the Rover, until Clarke broke her silence to introduce them to Madi. She quickly explained how both she and Madi were Nightbloods, which was why they survived Praimfaya. Clarke’s excitement and relief came as soon as Madi woke, with her child-like thrill that Clarke’s friends (who she knew from stories, but didn’t really know in person) had made it back Earth. 

After they piled in the back, with Bellamy braced between them, Clarke got in the driver’s seat of the Rover. Once they arrived at the cave, she cleaned and cauterized Bellamy’s wound, covering it with an herbal poultice to stop the infection. Madi was overjoyed to finally put faces to the names of the heroes in the stories Clarke had been telling her for years, and was wonderfully entertaining to the others as Clarke tended to Bellamy. The others had looked over frequently though, sharing serious glances they thought Clarke did not see, and they knew better than to get in her way. 

Now all she had to do was wait. You have to survive this, Bellamy. 

Clarke felt her eyes blurring with fatigue. She closed them, only for a moment, and rested her head next to their intertwined hands. 

 

Three days had passed. While the others left to help dig out the bunker, Clarke kept watch over Bellamy. His fever had finally broken, his bruises were turning yellow as they healed, and the sheen of sweat that had been constant on his brow began to subside.

Clarke was a bit overwhelmed by the presence of all the others; after all, she had spent over six years nearly on her own, with only Madi for company. She had hoped for them to return for so long and expected that she’d want to spend as much time with them as possible, but to her surprise, she felt a bit uncomfortable around them. Perhaps it was because she sensed how deep their comradery had grown without her in those six years. It was nothing specific that they said or did, just a deeply sad feeling that Clarke was the outsider among them. 

She supposed it didn’t help that the one she missed most of all wasn’t able to communicate. Nevertheless, staying with Bellamy was the only thing she wanted to do right now. One perk to her solitude was only having herself and Madi to worry about, so she had grown used to putting herself first in ways she hadn’t been able to early on in her time on Earth. While the others were obviously worried about him, they sensed that Clarke needed this time and would take care of him. Other than quick check-ins and meals, they gave her space. She busied herself in the cave as she waited for him to wake.

Bellamy stirred, hearing someone moving around near him. He opened his eyes and blinked at the minimal light in the room, not really knowing where he was. The fever dreams and hallucinations had been intense while he was unconscious, full of Praimfaya and Clarke and Earth. 

On the Ring, he had dreamed frequently of Clarke over the last six years, sometimes watching her blister and die in front of him, but in other dreams he just held her close, not wanting to wake. Sometimes she would appear as though no time had passed, and he would relish his time with the illusion of her, their conversations lulling him into a state of peace and comfort. Those were beautiful dreams, but as soon as he woke and reality flooded back at him, the ache in his heart increased. She left a hole deep in his heart that he knew, no matter how much time passed, that he would never fill. Then there were the nightmares…the ones where she was irradiated in front of him with nothing he could do to stop it. Waking from those came with some relief until the guilt set in.

He was used to the dreams now, but these fever dreams had been more intense, almost as though she were there with him. Her voice still rang in his mind, and a deep pang of loneliness hit him. He still missed her every single day, even though he’d tried to move forward. He was strong, for the others, but his heart still broke a little whenever she crossed his mind. 

The last real thing he’d remembered was being stabbed on the ship. But this was certainly not the ship that he was on now, and despite his still-weak body, he began to take in his surroundings, mentally preparing to fight if need be. He winced as he tried to sit up, the pain in his abdomen less sharp than before, but there was still fire in his belly. He noticed that his shirt had been removed and a thick paste covered the stab wound. Someone was taking care of him, which was a good sign, for the moment at least. If they wanted me dead, I would be dead, he thought. Lightheaded, he fought to stay seated and concentrated on focusing on his surroundings. 

At first glance, he seemed to be in a large, deep cave. Earth. Candles burned around him, and he could see glimmers of daylight in the distance, from what he assumed was the front of the cave. A part of him sighed with relief that he was back on Earth, but he couldn’t focus on that until he knew what he was dealing with and that the others were safe. 

He was on a bed of what seemed to be straw and furs and patchwork fabric. A bowl of water and rags sat near him, as well as other small bowls and vials. Looking toward the source of the original noise, he saw the back of a smallish figure, clad in dark clothing, in the shadow of the cave, moving things around. While not overtly threatening, he hesitated. Something was itched at the back of his mind, something familiar. Perhaps it was the people from the bunker who had rescued him, Wonkru. If whoever this was had wanted him dead, they certainly wouldn’t have been taking care of him. 

Quietly, the figure began humming. Bellamy lifted his head towards the sound in surprise. It can’t be…he thought. He knew that voice. He had given up on ever hearing that voice again. I must be dreaming again. But this was different than his dreams. His chest ached with a deep longing, a hope, that he had not felt in years. He had buried that hope long ago, as he had watched the world burn from the safety of the Ring.

“But how…?” he whispered to himself, hardly realizing he’d spoken aloud. The figure froze mid-phrase, and in the darkness, she turned slowly toward him.

It was her. Clarke. Older, to be sure, and in the dim light he could see that her wavy blonde hair was much shorter than in his memories, streaked with red that glimmered in the firelight. 

Her intelligent baby blue eyes sparkled just as he remembered them. He closed his eyes. This can’t be real. It can’t be Clarke. He thought he might pass out. Steadying himself, he opened his eyes again; she was still there, waiting for him as though he’d never left her. 

“Clarke?” he rasped, his voice cracking from disuse and the uncontrollable emotion that began spilling out of him. For the first time in a lifetime, he saw her lips turn up in a smile. It felt as though the floor of the cave went out from under him, and burning tears welled up in his eyes, blurring her. His breath shuddered, and she came to him, kneeling in front of him.

“I saved you for once,” she laughed through her tears, gently brushing his damp hair from out of his eyes, a gesture so intimate and kind that he struggled to keep it together. The soft touch of her hand on his skin was like bathing in the warm sun.

A choked sob escaped him as hope and guilt collided in his mind. He hadn’t been vulnerable with anyone the way he had been with Clarke, and when she died, he’d pushed it all down and threw away the key. Now it threatened to destroy him, but he didn’t care. She was there, real, in front of him. 

He could hardly look at her. He couldn’t bear it. His gaze lowered and head turned as he tried to manage it all, the tears streaming from his eyes.

“Hey, hey, Bellamy. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay,” Clarke said, concerned. Hesitantly, as if he might break, she gently cupped his face in her hands and turned his head to face her again. He looked up and away from her, blinking away tears and avoiding her eyes. 

“I left…I left someone I loved…,” he choked on the admission, “I left you behind to die, Clarke. How could I leave you? I’m so sorry…” The guilt that he had carried for six years hung in the air between them, as his eyes, filled with pain and remorse, finally met hers. 

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke said firmly, “You did what you needed to do to survive. You did exactly what I wanted you to do. You used your head, not just your heart.” She brought her face toward his bowed head and pressed her forehead into his. “You survived.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Bellamy’s ragged breathing became calmer as he took in what she said. He had survived, but so had she, and she was here now, touching him. The reality of this was more than he could’ve ever hoped for. A slow smile came to his lips.

“So did you, Princess,” he said, pulling away slightly so he could really look at her. His fingers shakily touched her face, pushing her hair aside, as his shy smile widened. Clarke leaned into his hand ever so slightly, a single tear running down her cheek as she stared back into his eyes. The strength she had given him with her words just moments ago, that he had willingly taken, had drained from her. This was their way: ebb and flow, give and take, strength and vulnerability. It had been six years, but they fell in sync as easily as though it was yesterday. 

“I missed you, Bellamy,” she whispered shakily. “So much.” He knew her well enough to know this admission was her letting down the walls she had built over the years, just like the ones he had built to protect himself from the memories of her, the loneliness of living without her. 

The weight of this moment lingered between them, carrying all the words they had said to each other, and carrying all the words they had never spoken, but knew to be true. They sat, staring at the impossibility of the person before them, the defying of the odds that brought them here, together again at last. The head and the heart.

Her eyes, though darkened from the years of her own survival, still shone brightly into his, then slightly shifted downward toward his mouth, then back to his eyes. The realization of their close proximity became suddenly obvious to Bellamy, and his heart quickened. Some things never change, he thought. He had felt this way around her for as long as he could remember knowing her, even when they had hated each other. 

“Clarke…” he said with emotion, as he had many times in the past. He brushed her cheek gently with his thumb. 

“I know, Bellamy… I love you, too,” Clarke said, uttering the words he had wanted to hear her say for so long, the words he’d thought he’d never get to hear her say. But she was alive, she was here, and he was hers, as he’d always been.

Clarke slowly closed the gap between them, eyes flicking between his own and his mouth. Bellamy felt his heart skip in response to feeling her warm breath so close to his own. He let her lead, holding back from just overtaking her, savoring in the moment. When her bottom lip barely touched his own and lingered there, he felt a surge of warmth course through him. She hesitated ever so slightly, and he panicked for a moment thinking she thought this was a mistake, but it was just a pause--she reached for his face with her hand and softly brought both of her lips to his. 

It was the gentlest thing he’d ever felt, the most loving kiss he’d ever experienced. He leaned into her lips slightly, returning the kiss, and a sigh escaped her mouth. He ached for her in a way he’d never known possible as she pulled away. Her eyelashes brushed his cheeks before she looked up at him, as vulnerable as she’d ever been, there, kneeling before him.

Despite his injury and sore muscles, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body closer to his bruised, bare skin. He couldn’t have cared less in that moment about the pain. It was nothing compared to the joy he felt. She pulled his face to hers once more and, with parted lips barely brushing his, kissed him again, in a way that was part searching, part sensual. He melted into her, his lips parting under the warmth of her mouth, turning his head to explore more deeply into her, his tongue cautiously darting to caress her upper lip. 

She sighed softly, and he pulled her in tighter with his arm as he deepened the kiss. Bellamy never expected to have this moment with Clarke; he presumed she was gone forever, and yet, here she was, finally in his arms in the way she was always meant to be. When they were younger, surviving one catastrophe after the next, he had always assumed that he could never be enough for someone as intelligent, beautiful, and independent as Clarke Griffin. He’d known she’d cared for Finn and she had sacrificed Finn anyway, for the good of her people. Bellamy thought maybe, someday, there might be space for him in her heart, but then she’d left him after Mount Weather, chosen Lexa. He had been so angry and jealous and confused, but they’d gotten through it. Everything was stronger between them when they synced together to try and save the world and their people. And he would do anything for her, even leave her, if it meant pleasing her. So he had, and he’d been broken inside ever since…until now. Now she was in his arms, and he would never let her go again, even if he had to die. He kissed her, knowing this was all he’d ever needed. And she kissed him back, knowing that he was worth waiting for, worth the 2,199 days of hope it took to get them here.

“FINALLY. Took you guys long enough,” Murphy said, coming into the cave. Clarke and Bellamy broke the kiss, smiling sheepishly at being caught. They exchanged a knowing glance before Clarke rose to her feet. The aches and pains of his injuries began flooding back to him and he winced. 

“Hey, Murphy. Impeccable timing, as always,” Bellamy laughed.

“I’m glad you’re alive man,” Murphy said in a moment of seriousness before the others arrived. “Thought you were a goner, but I should’ve known better. Especially when Princess showed up to save the day.” Clarke shot him a glare, then a smile. Only Bellamy had earned the right to call her Princess, and they all knew it.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me Murphy, as always,” Bellamy retorted, laying back down. 

The others began filing in, relieved to see Bellamy awake. Clarke stood in the shadows behind them and looked to Bellamy, a soft smile on her face. He smiled and leaned back, thinking of how incredibly lucky he was to have her again, because no matter what tomorrow held for them, they would face it. 

Together.


End file.
